Meeting Immortals
by everydaytimelord
Summary: They might have received their positions differently, but essentially they are the same; to protect and watch over the world and its children. A Rise of the Guardians and Incarnations of Immortality crossover depicting how each Guardian met an Incarnation and how they will all play a special role in the world together.
1. Til Death Do Us Part

It had been a rough day. Worse than usual. It was nearing Spring, and, as for every time Jack Frost had to make this change, the sprites of Spring came around and tried to get rid of Jack before his time was over. It was the normal taunting and bullying, at first, but after a few days of isolated fights and punches while his back was turned, it had quickly escalated into something much more. The spring sprites had gathered together this time, for an all-out attack, trying to rid themselves of the pesky winter spirit once and for all. Jack, however, was not going down without a fight.

It had been a grueling few hours of merciless attack after merciless attack and Jack was beginning to lose the fight. As a last ditch effort to gain an advantage, then, Jack had conjured up a storm. All of his frustrations were put into the massive blizzard. He wanted to rid himself of the sprites, and this, in Jack's mind, was the only way to get them to finally listen.

Jack's storm raged, and Jack himself began to wear down from the effort. He might be the embodiment of winter, but he did not have unlimited power and he was quickly approaching his limit. It took another day, and five states to finally die Jack's storm down to a winter weather advisory. Jack knew he had gotten his point across days ago, but he did not have the will nor the want to stop the raging blizzard. It felt good and Jack needed to blow himself out for it to stop, so he went all out, calling upon every trick he knew to make this memorable. What he was not expecting was the guilt that followed.

Destruction. It was everywhere and nothing could escape. Houses were buried, electricity had gone out, many were without heat and many more had no means of leaving their homes because of the hazardous transportation. Jack had not meant to cause so much despair, but he had grown used to it. He always caused trouble; it was who he was, and he could not escape that. He watched the people bustling about, trying to clear their driveways of the foot or two of snow that had gathered over the course of a few days. No one noticed Jack when he landed roughly on the ground and stumbled into a snow bank in the town park. Not one person bared witness to Jack falling forward and burying himself in his snow. Not one living soul bothered him.

Jack awoke hours later, exhaustion still pulling him down, but not as bad as before. He could not stay here. The spring sprites would find him again after they had recovered. He knew they would come back. They always did. Jack pushed himself up from the frozen ground and out of the snow bank. He stood, dusted a few clumps of snow off of himself that clung to their creator, and began to trudge lazily through the snow, not having the will to fly just yet.

The snow was always beautiful to Jack, even if it caused destruction. Jack surveyed his work, watching the light filtered down from the late evening cloud cover bounce off and shine, even if only a little bit. As Jack slowly pulled his gaze from the snow, he saw something moving from the corner of his eye that was not previously there. Jack clenched his staff close to him and stepped back once as he turned his eyes to the figure that stood near a tree tuned away from him. Jack relaxed then; no human could harm him. It was probably just a person taking an evening stroll through the park. Nothing to be worried about. But Jack was anxious nonetheless. He turned to the wind, about to call it to take him to his lake, when he saw the man by the tree bend down. Jack, now curious at whatever had caught the man's attention, walked up right behind him. Jack could now hear the man speaking softly to something. Still a good fifteen feet off, Jack inched his way closer to the man, wanting to hear what he was saying. As he came closer, he could hear the soft mewling from something buried in the snow. Jack leaned around the man speaking and saw that there was a young woman sitting against the tree, covered in snow up to her chest. Jack took in her blue complexion and stiff limbs and knew she did not have much longer to live. The guilt hit Jack like a punch in the stomach and he let out an uncomfortable sigh, trying to control his emotions. Jack stiffening as the man moved, almost to answer Jack's plea, and moved a hand toward the woman. Although, Jack noticed with surprise, it was not a hand; the man had a skeleton where his hand should be. Jack took a quick step back, surprise and fear roiling in him, and he nearly jumped into the air, but his eye caught the movement of the hand and Jack was frozen in place, mesmerized by its fluid movements and grace. The skeleton hand reached into the woman and pulled at something inside of her, then came out with a white webby substance. The woman, immediately after, fell limp, as if asleep, but Jack knew better.

"It's just her soul. She was suffering, and now she will be sent to Heaven or Hell, whichever way her soul leans." The man folded the soul into a small square, then tucked it into his inner pocket inside his black robe and stood, as if ready to leave.

"Wait!" Jack yelled, then cringed at his own voice, rough and dry. He had not meant to be so loud, but he needed to ask the man who he was before he left. The mere thought that someone could acknowledge him, let alone speak with him, surprised and excited Jack.

"It was her time to go. She is no longer-"

"No, not that. I know that. But, who are you and why can you hear me? Can you seem me too?!" Jack nearly bounced in his new discovery. Finally! Someone who has not yet cast him away and is holding a conversation with him! Even if he takes people's souls, this brightened Jack's day considerably.

"Well," the man sounded perplexed, as if this sort of reaction did not happen usually. He turned around and faced Jack, and Jack flinched when he caught a glimpse of the skeleton underneath the dark hood. "I suppose you would call me Death, in this area. I collect souls who cannot cross over on their own."

"With that look of yours, I bet you would get along great with the Boogeyman." Jack nearly laughed, then sobered when he remembered who he was speaking to. "Sorry. It's just that I don't get to talk to other people often. Well, people who aren't out to sabotage me or my season."

"I didn't ask who you were." Death said suddenly with a hint of curiosity.

"Oh, me? My name's Jack Frost." Jack let a toothy smile slip and it lightened his mood.

"You seem awful happy to meet Death." The hooded skeleton said, and Jack could almost swear he saw a glint of humor in his eye sockets right then.

"Well, as I said before, I don't get to talk to too many people. Hey!" Jack jumped up once out of excitement, the wind picking him up and hovered him a few inches above the ground, "How about you teach me that thing you did? With the soul and stuff?"

Death stood stock still, amazed at the fact that this young man was hovering above the ground. After a few seconds of letting his mind catch up with the situation, he finally had enough sense to answer Jack.

"Well, I am sure that is not something you want to do. You would be taking lives, killing, in a sense, and that is not a job for someone as young as you, especially." Jack deflated at this news and his feet touched the ground lightly. Death looked at his wrist wear a watch sat.

"I have to leave soon. My next client-"

"No, I understand. It's alright." Jack sat on the ground, the exhaustion from earlier catching back up, his will power no longer wanting to hold him above the ground.

"You're the spirit of winter, correct?" Death asked out of the blue. Jack let his eyes drift back up the cloak to look into the dark pits that were Death's eyes. He nodded weakly, then, for emphasis, created a few snowflakes and blew them into the air.

"Well, Jack, I hope to never see you again, but if our fates cross once more, I will make sure to spend more time with you. If I stop time again I'm sure Norton would blow a fuse." Death seemed to smile at that, as if remembering a good friend. Jack stood, then, and held out a hand. Death, snapped out of his reverie, took it and shook it firmly.

"Until then," Jack smiled, and flew off into the air. He created a few new snowflakes and set off for Burgess.


	2. Sands of Time

It had been a long work day, like every day, and every other day to come. Sandy sighed, blowing off a few sand grains and leaning back into a cloud of forming sand. His job was not complete, nor would it ever be, but Sandy was okay with this. As long as he brought joy and peace to children Sandy would continue to do his job. As long as the world kept turning, it would always be nighttime somewhere.

Sandy startled and flailed in his cloud, not finding the support that was there just moments before… or had it been longer? Sandy formed another sand cloud quickly, and wiped at his forehead, dusting off a few stray grains and smiling at his own carelessness. The exhaustion was getting to him recently, and he knew it was not going to get any better. He had been going at this job almost constantly since he started all those decades ago and he had not truly given himself many days to relax and catch up on sleep himself. Even the sandman needed to rest, no matter how little it was.

Sandy sat down on his cloud and frowned, sending out a few new dreams strands. How long has it been since the last time he had gotten a true good night's sleep? Sandy counted on his fingers absentmindedly and, in the end, shrugged and leaned back into the shifting pillow. Perhaps it has been longer than Sandy had realized. With Jack being new to the Guardians and all, Sandy has had little time to himself. He was determined to spend what little time he did have with his family, and that was a considerably small amount when Sandy actually thought about it. Guilt churned heavily in his gut and he looked out at the horizon, hoping to see one of Tooth's faeries in the distance, to send a message to his friends, to let them know that he cared for them and will make sure they had good dreams. His hope faded quickly, however, and he slumped back against a sand chair that had formed during his musings.

A few minutes passed, dreams weaving in and out of his dream cloud in the time. Sandy looked out over the horizon again and noticed the beginning indications of sunrise. Sandy's heart lifted and he began to let his cloud drift over the ocean to the next continent. His strands of dreams will follow him after their work was finished here.

Ready to move a little faster, Sandy took out his sand goggles and began forming one of his most recent favorite ways of transportation, the airplane, until he noticed something moving quickly on the horizon toward him. Sandy thought it to be one of the newer planes the humans must have come up with, until he saw how small it was. As it came closer, Sandy noticed that it was having trouble keeping in the air, its arms flailing frantically for some sort of grip. Arms? Sandy pulled on his goggles the rest of the way and jumped into his airplane. He zoomed across the sky, watching the figure as its form came more clearly into view. It was indeed a human; the now falling through the heavens human, Sandy corrected himself as he made the quick assessment that what the figure was doing was falling, not flying. Sandy sped up the plane and came to a spot right below the man, and formed a large cloud of sand to catch him in. It would not be soft, but it would have to do. Sandy readied himself for impact and flinched just as the man in the white robe fell unceremoniously into his sand. After a few seconds of no movement, Sandy opened his eyes to find the white robed man lying face down in his cloud, seemingly asleep, but Sandy knew better and floated cautiously over to him. A groan followed by a cough made Sandy speed to the man's side. Worry and relief sped through his body at knowing the man was alive, but not knowing how much he currently wanted to be alive. The height of the man's fall was not small and the landing was not entirely soft.

Sandy hesitantly touched the man's shoulder and pulled away as if burned when the man groaned again and turned his head. A sudden panic overtook Sandy, and images began flashing above his head telling the man not to move, that he may have broken something, that he didn't want him to become hurt any further, but, as always, his warnings went largely unnoticed and the man lifted his head just far enough from the sand to turn it to face Sandy. He opened his eyes and smiled at Sandy, and that only proved to worry the sandman even more. He must have hit his head, Sandy thought as he leaned down and looked the man in the eyes. He kept eye contact with him for a good second or two before the other gave up and closed them again. Sandy, not wanting to see him in pain anymore, dusted him lightly with dream sand. Sleep was the best medicine, after all, right next to laughter.

Sandy sighed, knowing that he was never going to get a break, and lifted his cloud into the sky to his sand palace.

Sandy watched the mysterious man sleep, not knowing what to do with him. He checked over his injuries, which were not as severe as Sandy was expecting, and now had nothing more to do than to stare at him. Sandy had pulled off the man's white cloak long ago and it lay neatly folded atop a small dresser Sandy conjured up.

The cloak. Sandy's mind wandered as he let his gaze drift lazily from the sleeping man to the white cloak. He had seen it before, or, at least, knew he had heard of it somewhere before. It seemed so familiar to him, and yet, so distant, as if the memory was surfacing from his distant past. Sandy closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, a headache forming. He knew it would take a while to remember something from that long ago and he was in no mood at the moment to try.

When the pain began to subside, Sandy opened his eyes and nearly fell over when he saw the man staring at him. His blue eyes seemed in deep concentration and Sandy become uncomfortable, but the man looked away as soon as he saw whatever he needed to. Sandy, relieved in the man's awakening, and much more comfortable with such an intense gaze off of him, he approached the man who was lying quite still on the makeshift bed Sandy created.

As Sandy neared the man, just two feet off, that gaze was upon him again, but this time Sandy was prepared. A few images flashed above Sandy's head, and he had to smile when he saw the man squint in confusion and shake his head.

"I am sorry, but can you just speak? My thoughts aren't very coherent at the moment," the man said, his voice rough from little use. Sandy shook his head slowly then pointed at his throat and shrugged.

"Oh, you can't speak? That's a shame." The man then turned over onto his side and lifted himself from the bed, but fell back to it in pain when he used his right arm. Sandy shot forward and helped the man onto his back. He had twisted his elbow on the landing and using it was not in the plan, and Sandy was going to make sure of this. He formed a sling out of sand around the man's shoulder and under his arm. He was going to get his point across.

After a minute of just breathing, the man finally spoke up again.

"My name is Norton, by the way," He said nonchalantly, as if falling out of the sky was a usual thing. Sandy smiled and held out his hand for a handshake, then pulled it back, remembering, and instead used that same hand to form his own name in sand above the bed.

"Sandy. The sandman. It is nice to finally meet you." Sandy formed a question mark above his head.

"Oh, yes. The name you may better know me by is Chronos. I am the Incarnation of Time." Norton said with a hint of pride, and Sandy could not blame him. Then it all came back to Sandy. The white cloak, he _had _seen it before. When he first became a Guardian.

Realization spread across Sandy's face as he stared at the man. He had so much to say to him! But, be looked different than before. Sandy pondered this, then decided he would have to do some research. But, Time. In his own home! Sandy could not hold in his excitement very well as a series of unrelated pictures popped above his head and dissipated. Norton calmly waited for the small man to calm himself.

As Sandy had his moment, Norton had a minute to reflect. He had been told of the Guardians, and, sure, he had heard of them plenty of time before, but never before had he been able to meet any of them. It would be an honor to meet Santa Claus, or the Easter Bunny, but the Sandman would have to do. He seemed like a nice enough fellow, considering he saved him from certain doom. That fall had been nasty and he was not willing to repeat it. Norton pondered at that for a moment. He did not really remember how he had started falling. He just remembered being overwhelmingly tired, then he was heading toward a giant mass of sand. Norton let his mind wander over the strangeness of this, his hourglass keeping him from making stupid mistakes, then, as if just now remembering it existed on him, sat up, slowly, and pulled it out of his pocket, unfolding it from its stored position.

Sandy, previously caught up in his own musings, stopped in his tracks and stared at the green glowing hourglass before him. Sandy knew this as the symbol of the office, much like Sandy's sand. It represented who they were and what positions they filled. Chronos would obviously have an hourglass, but the green glow perplexed him.

Norton stared at his hourglass a moment, glad it had kept up the normal flow of time while he was unconscious, and glanced up at the dazed sandman and smiled. Sandy shook his head and smiled back at Norton, embarrassed that he had gotten so caught up in his own thoughts he forgot a person was with him. But, not just a person, an Incarnation.

Among the spirit world, the Guardians were seen as the most well-known, but the Incarnations were seen as the most famous and important of the offices. Death, Time, Fate, War and Nature were all well known among the spirit world, but the only one they were able to come in contact with at any time was Nature. The other four incarnations did not come in contact with the lesser spirits, mostly because their jobs simply did not coincide. It was mere coincidence when they did meet, and because of this Sand had been surprised when he met the Incarnation of Time for the first time all those years ago. It was nearly impossible to meet him again, yet here he is.

Catching himself being caught up in his own thoughts again, Sandy smiled and landed on the bed next to Norton. A quick message displayed above his head saying it was an honor to meet Chronos again. Sandy hoped that Norton remembered him, but it was unlikely considering the hundreds of years it had been since that day. And the man had left so abruptly before, Sandy was nervous that it may happen again.

Norton held out his hand for Sandy, understanding his message.

"It is likewise an honor, Sandman." Norton grinned and shook Sandy's hand. The grin dissipated, however, when a quick pain shot through his head and down his back. What could that be? Norton had the nagging feeling he knew where this was coming from, but he was too tired to find out. He wanted to simply go back to his mansion in Purgatory and rest. It sounded simple, but Norton knew better. After his last fiasco with another Incarnation, he had had little to no time to rest. Norton laughed at the irony. The Incarnation of Time having no time. How could that even be?

Sandy, watching Norton's expressions as he changed from one of pain, then amusement was entertaining, but he frowned as he saw the next expression. This one he knew all too well. It was one his job was entitled to fix and Sandy was going to see to it that he did; his dream cloud could continue on without him for a little while. He would have to make the time for, well, Time.

"Sandman, it is a pleasure to meet you, but-" Norton could not get the last of the sentence out as another wave of pain shot through his temple and down his back. He held onto his hourglass for support, but found nothing but the solid presence as he fell forward. He gasped, surprised when he did not hit the floor, and instead found a solid stream of sand wrapped around his chest. He was pulled back onto the bed and set down carefully. After letting his swimming vision clear a bit, he looked back at the Sandman, trying his hardest to figure out what them man was going on about now. He saw a picture of a bed, then of three Z's, then a bottle of medicine. Sandy wanted Norton to sleep, and why wouldn't he? It was his position after all, and Norton did not want to argue. He needed the sleep, and it was only obvious to everyone that he had retained some injuries from his last mission. He would be more than happy to stay and sleep, but he could not spare the time of day to do so.

Norton's face went blank and Sandy became worried. Perhaps he had hit his head harder than Sandy had previously thought, but that thought cleared as Norton's face turned down to stare at his hand and lock onto a small ring. After a moment, Norton looked back up, and Sandy could not help but feel worried as Norton pulled out his hourglass and watched it turn from green to black.

"There. That should give us plenty of time." Norton said under his breath and a perplexed look crossed Sandy's face as he tried to figure out what changed. The sand around him had gone still and did not react to his will. Norton caught this and smirked.

"I have stopped time. I suppose I need to rest and you will not let me go until I have done so. I have compromised. We shall both relax. Even the sandman needs to sleep from time to time, yes?" And Sandy was almost worried that Norton could read minds. Norton, utter exhaustion sweeping over his body, lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes. Sandy, upon seeing this, knew it was his queue. He could not control time, but Time itself had just given Sandy a great gift and he was not about to put it to waste. Sandy grabbed some of his sand from the frozen pile above his head and sprinkled it loosely over Norton's head. He watched as Chronos, the controller of time, slept peacefully. Sandy, seeing as he had been given his unspoken wish, conjured up another, much smaller bed and lay down next to him. What a story this will be for the Guardians, Sandy thought as he drifted off to dreamland, visions from long ago making up what were his dreams.

Sandman awoke some time later to a steady stream of his dream sand dragging lazily across his face. He floated up on instinct and took a good look at his surroundings. The sun, through his window, was floating in the sky. This was wrong, and Sandy knew this, but was not worried as he looked over at the empty bed next to him. He had been given the time to rest, and it was wonderful, but duty called. After all, children always slept and his job will never truly be over.


	3. Author's Note Update

Sorry for being slow at updating this, but I am working on it, and new chapters will be much faster once school lets out for summer in May.


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